In came Lenehan. Round him peered Lenehan. Mr Bloom reached Essex bridge. Yes, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. To Martha I must write. Buy paper. Daly's. Girl there civil. Bloom. Old Bloom. Blue Bloom is on the rye.
-- He was in at lunchtime, Miss Douce said.
Lenehan came forward.
-- Was Mr Boylan looking for me?
He asked. She answered:
-- Miss Kennedy, was Mr Boylan in while I was upstairs?
She asked. Miss voice of Kennedy answered, a second teacup poised, her gaze upon a page.
-- No. He was not.
Miss gaze of Kennedy, heard not seen, read on. Lenehan round the sandwichbell wound his round body round.
-- Peep! Who's in the corner?
No glance of Kennedy rewarding him he yet made overtures. To mind her stops. To read only the black ones: round o and crooked ess.
Jingle jaunty jingle.
Girlgold she read and did not glance. Take no notice. She took no notice while he read by rote a solfa fable for her, plappering flatly:
-- Ah fox met ah stork. Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?
He droned in vain. Miss Douce turned to her tea aside.
He sighed, aside:
-- Ah me! O my!
He greeted Mr Dedalus and got a nod.
-- Greetings from the famous son of a famous father.
-- Who may he be? Mr Dedalus asked.
Lenehan opened most genial arms. Who?
-- Who may he be? he asked. Can you ask? Stephen, the youthful bard.
Dry.
Mr Dedalus, famous fighter, laid by his dry filled pipe.
-- I see, he said. I didn't recognize him for the moment. I hear he is keeping very select company. Have you seen him lately?